Five get into a Scrape
by Caledonius
Summary: In which the Torchwood team make an unexpected visit to the Land of Fiction. Rated for some swearing, some sexin'. Chapter 3 now up - 31 Aug 09
1. Prologue

**Warnings/Spoilers:** None in the prologue, perhaps in other chapters - I don't know, I ain't written 'em yet.

**Pairings:** Jack & Ianto, Owen & Tosh - none for poor Gwen (bless!)

**Characters:** Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper, Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato. Various characters from fiction – some of my own, and some I've borrowed.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or control or have any influence over the Torchwood characters (mores' the pity!). That pleasure belongs to the BBC. Any other brand names or entities belong entirely to their owner/originator, and have been borrowed lightly for plot purposes.

**AN:** Aiming for general with a touch of humour, please advise. I may attempt angst in other fics, but not this one. Drama for sure, but no angst ;-) Also not so keen on AU, so it'll be fairly canon in terms of what we know about the characters and their personalities. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

**Prologue**

Torchwood wasn't always about dashing after Weevils and preventing the Rift from bursting open and unleashing bedlam.

Reports needed to be written and submitted. Invoices needed raised and budgets needed reconciled. Maintenance schedules needed to be followed.

Monday's team meeting went through the usual agenda items, Ianto diligently taking the minutes in shorthand. Owen tended to loll about like a bored schoolboy during the routine stuff - a necessary evil he understood, but not something he'd willingly participate in. Under "Any other business" Jack smiled mischievously and uttered a dreaded word. A word guaranteed to strike fear into the most dedicated Torchwood operative.

"Inventory" he drawled.

Tosh quickly looked up from her PDA where she'd been scribing with the stylus. Gwen glanced at Jack, to confirm she'd heard right, and then looked at Ianto - who was smiling like the cat that had got the cream.

"You what?" barked Owen.

"You heard. Inventory, stock take, whatever you want to call it. It needs to be done. We need to make sure that we're fully stocked and fully prepared. We'll do inventory on Friday. And as a special favour you can all wear casual clothes - jeans, t-shirts and the like. In fact, I insist upon it. It's gonna be dirty and messy." grinned the Captain.

Ianto's smirk fell a little. He had thought that their pillow talk had paid off, but he soon realised that as persuasive as he was, and as willing as Jack was, he'd never get all his own way. He resigned himself to the fact that, despite Jack agreeing to the inventory, he was going to have to pay for it.

"Why the hell can't **he** do it? That's what **he's** here for, no?" complained Owen, glaring at Ianto.

"**He's** going to be busy enough on the day, don't you worry, and he'll have the pleasure of going through your inventories and doing the reconciliations and ordering. You guys have the expertise to know what you've got, what you need and what you don't need. Ianto, as knowledgeable as he is, doesn't know everything."

A ripple of laughter ran around the room at Jack's foolish denial of his lover's near-perfect memory.

**_twtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtw_**

Friday rolled around and the team assembled in the Hub. Ianto had prepared thoroughly and had clipboards, task lists and inventory sheets for everyone; he also gave his colleagues a flask of their favourite hot water based beverage.

"I'll be far too busy to keep making you lot coffee all day long - this'll tide you over. And if you're good boys and girls" a pointed look at Jack "you may just get afternoon tea at four o'clock."

Each of the team grabbed their clipboards and settled down to work – not wanting to put off the inevitable any longer. Ianto & Tosh played DJ, sending music wafting through the Hub, it was eerie the way it echoed through the deep, wide spaces within the Hub, but it kept the spirits up during what was a mind numbing task.

At one point in the morning Jack wandered out of his office, about to ask Ianto a question about his list and looked down. On the hub floor below him all was quiet. Tosh was on her hands and knees in the cleaning cupboard, counting up the range of cleaning supplies ("Mr Muscle" and "Mr Steroid" - Jack read). Owen was bopping around the autopsy area, having stripped the medication cupboard bare and was putting everything back in again.

There was no sign of either Gwen or Ianto, but he could hear banging and clattering and swearing coming from the armoury - so that's where Gwen was. Ianto must have popped down to the Archives. Just as Gwen stomped out of the armoury, brushing her hands down the front of her jeans, Ianto jogged up the stairs, clipboard in hand. They were both warm from their exertions and each pulled off their hoodies to cool down. Jack guffawed as he saw what they were wearing underneath.

Both Gwen and Ianto had decided to wear the same t-shirt; the same "Little Miss Bossy" t-shirt. The others looked up as he laughed, and he pointed to towards the Welsh contingent. Owen and Tosh broke up in gales of laughter. Gwen and Ianto smiled tightly at each other; but joined the laughter on realising how daft they both looked.

Jack couldn't decide which of the two of them looked hotter. Gwen's ample bosom was straining against the fabric, and her trim waist was highlighted by the tight cotton. On the other hand, Ianto's shoulders and waist were prominent through the flimsy material. The clincher was the fact Ianto's t-shirt had ridden up and gave a teasing glimpse of a furry treasure trail. This tipped the balance in Ianto's favour. Jack suspected that Ianto was wearing the t-shirt as some kind of protest or punishment of Jack for making him wear casual clothes. Jack couldn't see how it was a punishment - he'd quiz Ianto about that later (and follow the treasure trail!).

The laughter died down and they went back to work - refreshed and smiling.

**_twtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtw_**

After lunch, Ianto called Jack through the intercom. "I've found an unmarked crate down here Jack. I'm bringing it up so we can have a look - can you get the gear together?"

Jack acknowledged and started to pull together the gear. After one too many incidents with unknown objects from the archives or the Rift, the team had come up with some protocols when handling the artefacts. Trial and error had led them to use the x-ray specs that identified if something had travelled through the rift. very long rubber gloves, a welders mask, a long rubber apron, and an aqualung. This tended to protect the examiner - no direct contact, a reasonable defence against solids, liquids and gasses that may be released. They hadn't come up with something to protect the mind yet. Ianto had drolly suggested that they wear a tinfoil helmet.

The rest of the team saw Jack gathering the gear together and started to drift across - they were quite frankly bored, and this looked much more interesting.

Ianto arrived out of the lower levels with a crate held out at arm's length in front of him, like it was a ticking bomb. It didn't look too heavy, and was about the size of a large briefcase. Tosh cleared some space on a work station and Ianto carefully put the crate down.

The hub was silent as they contemplated the crate.

Owen sneezed and they all jumped. "What the hell, Owen?" cried Jack. "It's the dust." explained Owen. "Use a hankie!" complained Gwen.

The crate was dusty but as Ianto pointed out, after a certain length of time the dust gets no deeper. It could have been down there for 5 years or 50.

"Where did you find it?" asked Tosh, whipping out her handheld and running a basic scan.

"It was right at the back of a walk-in cupboard on level 5, that's where I keep the stores of evidence bags and the like. The non-perishable and non-lethal items."

"Have you seen it before?" asked Gwen.

"No, never. That's worrying me. I thought I'd got through everything on that level. I mean EVERYTHING."

"Obviously you didn't then" sniped Owen.

"I am very thorough, Owen, as well you know." retorted Ianto "but the remote possibility exists that I overlooked it.... But even if **I** hadn't seen it and catalogued it, surely one of my predecessors had? There are no markings, stickers, labels, seals. Nothing. Not a single warning or indication - and that's not like Torchwood."

"Perhaps it's in infrared or ultraviolet ink? Or it's sound based but too low or too high for us to hear?" asked Jack, "Tosh, try scanning."

"I'd thought of that too Jack, I've scanned it on all the spectrums that I know of and there's nothing. It's reading as a wooden crate with leather and paper on the inside. There's a thumb-print electronic clasp holding it shut."

There was nothing left to do but open it up and take a look. Jack pulled on the aqualung, mask, 3D specs, gloves and apron - looking quite sinister when he'd done. Jack waved them all back from the crate, hefted a crowbar and began to prise off the lid; the wood cracked and splintered as the crowbar did its work, and soon the lid was loose. Jack lifted the lid and put it to one side, the others craned their necks to peer inside.

It was a book; a large, heavy looking leather-bound book. Jack picked up the book in both gloved hands and gingerly lifted it out; swivelling on his heels he made to put the book down on the tabletop. Owen and Tosh were on his left, Ianto and Gwen on his right. As he lowered the book down it slipped from his grasp and landed with a thud on the metal surface. They all jumped. Tosh and Owen bumped shoulders, and Gwen grabbed at Ianto's arm in fright.

They all held their breath, and then as they exhaled, there was the amplified sound of a warm hearted chuckle and the THUMP of a heavy book being closed. A visible pulse emanated from the book, radiating outwards.

And then it all went black.

**_twtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtw_**

_Now children, are you sitting comfortably? Good, then I'll begin..._

_Once upon a time..._


	2. Chapter 1: Ornithanthrope

_**AN:** Usual disclaimers apply, sorry for the delay, what with work, family and CoE to watch and digest it took longer than I expected. Next Chapter will be up sooner - thanks to all the reviews and story alerts. So far I'm thinking this will be about 11 chapters._

* * *

Ianto regained consciousness slowly, gently. He was warm, on some soft material. He felt the gentle pressure of another warm body on him. Their arm wrapped around his torso – snuffling warm breath tickled his ear.

At first he thought he was at home, in bed with Jack. His senses told him this wasn't the case. The weight of the arm wasn't heavy enough. It didn't smell like his room, it didn't feel like his bed. He decided the time had come to open his eyes.

Nope, that wasn't right – it was still dark. He could feel sunlight on his body so it must be daytime. He closed his eyes again and listened to his body. He could feel all his limbs, and there were no aches and pains as such, but there was a strange feeling in his back. His pulse was normal, no headache, not feeling hungry or thirsty. He felt a breeze over his skin, nearly all of it, so he was very naked.

Right – let's try this opening eyes thing again. He opened his eyes as wide as possible.

No – still dark. A tickle of doubt settled in his stomach. Something wasn't right – perhaps even dreadfully wrong.

He began to feel his arm become numb under the weight of his slumbering companion. Again Ianto closed his eyes and listened; this time to the person next to him. There was the faintly scratchy feeling of fabric against his skin. He felt the mound of a breast against his ribs – so definitely not Jack. His nostrils flared as he took in the scent of the female (he hoped!) – light sweat and Chanel No 5 – the combined smell was familiar to him. Just then his companion made a whickering snuffle in his ear.

Ianto grinned in relief as he realised... Gwen! Thank god – it was Gwen. He'd heard her make that noise many a time as she caught up on a broken nights' sleep on the sofa in the Hub.

"Gwen! Gwen! Wake up; you're giving me a dead arm."

Gwen rolled off him, but started to kick him, gently muttering "Tea, Tea, Rhys pet."

"GWEN!" hissed Ianto urgently. Given the circumstances he didn't want to raise his voice too much but he had to wake her up.

He didn't know why he was blind and certainly didn't know how he and Gwen were asleep together. It can't have been one of the Torchwood tequila fuelled Karaoke nights; the next wasn't due for at least a week. Though over indulgence on rot-gut tequila might explain the blindness...

Gwen surfaced from her restful sleep shocked to hear Ianto's voice so close to her ear. Her eyes snapped open and she found herself staring at a cliff face.

"ughnhn" she grunted, still shaking of the last of her sleep. She flipped onto her back and looked at the sky. The sky with not one, but two shining suns. For an instant she was intrigued by the difference between the two – a large, pale one and a small, red one. The realisation that she was no longer on Earth kicked that thought out pretty quickly. She snapped to and bolted to her feet. "Bloody Hell!"

Again Ianto called out to her, but if she heard him, she was too busy taking in her surroundings. She was standing in a bird's nest, a very large, human sized bird's nest. She shuddered at the thought of the size of bird that would roost here.

The nest was made from branches, twigs and downy material and somehow attached to the cliff face. It overlooked a maze carved into the red rock, and in the distance a glass city perched on a mountain top. In the few seconds it took for her to appraise her surroundings, Ianto began flailing around until he found her. Clutching her ankle he loudly called her name.

She looked down at her colleague and her eyes goggled, her mind boggled. At her feet lay Ianto; clad in nothing more than a loincloth. His head was weaving around as if trying to see her.

"Ianto!" she gasped "Oh my god." His head fastened in her direction as she spoke, but as she looked she could see his normally expressive blue eyes were soft and not focussed on her face.

"Gwen, I can't see" gulped Ianto. "I open my eyes and it's all dark still. What's going on? Can you see?" As he talked, more and more of the shock surfaced in his voice.

"Ianto, oh Ianto" she murmured as she fell to her knees. "I can see sweetheart. Don't worry." She wanted to give him a reassuring pat but there was too much to take in.

"Well, where the hell are we? What can you see" he demanded, reining in his fear.

Gwen took another look round, absorbing more detail. "Don't want to disturb you, but we're not on Earth – two suns, you see..." She cringed as she said the words, forgetting that the troubled man couldn't.

She flustered on "We're in a ruddy big bird's nest, attached to a cliff. There's some kind of maze below and a city above. I can see people moving through the maze and what looks like a dodgy looking space ship. The sunlight is glinting off the city, so I'm assuming is glass or something."

Gwen's words nagged at Ianto; there was something familiar about her descriptions. So damn familiar... A couple of pennies dropped...

"Gwen....?" his voice was full of wonder. "Can you tell me what you're wearing?"

"What I'm wearing?!?!" Gwen hadn't even thought to look – she tilted her head and looked at her body. "Bloody Hell" she sang out. "I'm wearing, if you can believe it and I'm doubting, thigh high silver boots, there's a power pack attached to one, and some kind of blaster tucked into the other. I'm wearing some kind of sliver leotard body stocking thing too. Oh, and a bracelet, wristlet which looks like a translator/power indicator.

Ianto nodded another penny dropping. "And your hair?"

"My hair?!?!" She reached up and grabbed a handful, pulling it forward. "I'm a blonde – an honest to goodness blonde."

"And me, what about me?" The pennies were dropping thick and fast now, he already knew what her answer would be.

"Well love, you're tanned, hairless, a dinky loincloth and you've gone blonde too!"

Ianto nodded again, feeling much calmer as he began to understand. "I'm going to stand up now, but you have to promise to stay calm. You may see something that'll surprise you, shock you even."

"C'mon Ianto, it's not like I haven't seen you naked before."

"Gwen!" snapped Ianto "Focus!"

He'd worked out what that strange feeling on his back was. He raised himself up on his elbows and levered himself upright. As he did so he could hear her spluttering and gasping. Once on his feet he heard her begin to laugh, a shade hysterically.

"Oh Ianto, I'm always calling you an angel, and now it's come true."

Ianto pulled on muscles he'd never had before and extended his wings. Gwen took in the sight of him. He must have a 16 foot wingspan. It was amazing and as sexy as hell, but because it was Ianto there was a touch of vulnerability to the sight. "Jack's gonna LOVE this!" she thought, with that, she realised that there was no sign of the others.

"Where's Jack?" cried Gwen in alarm.

"I'm sure he'll be having fun somewhere" answered Ianto darkly.

"What's happened to us? What are we going to do? Where are we? Where are the others?" this time around Gwen was beginning to panic.

Ianto folded his wings behind him, and reached for Gwen, his hands fumbled and grabbed her upper arms. "Shhh... I've got an idea of what's going on" he reassured her.

Gwen took a step forward and let herself be comforted by the man. He'd come a long way since she'd first met him. She caught a glimpse of his wings over his shoulder and chuckled. The chuckle became a sob as her shock took hold. Ianto gave her a strong hug and looking sightlessly over her head, he began to speak.

"You know the 80s pop group Duran Duran?"

"Yes, but I can't see how that's relevant..."

"Shut up and listen Gwen. You know Jane Fonda, right?"

"Yes, she does those ads for the face cream"

"I hate to say it, but I think we're in one of her movies."

"What! You're joking, aren't you? Don't kid with me Ianto, not right now. That's not possible. It can't be "

"I know it sounds impossible but honestly Gwen, based on the evidence that's the best guess I can make. You got any ideas?"

Gwen struggled to think, there was nothing she could observe or explain. The book must be the cause, but working for Torchwood meant that you had to shoehorn your mind into some impossible concepts.

"No... Ianto, I can't believe that we're in a film – which one?"

"Barbarella, 1968. Filmed in France and directed by her then husband Roger Vadim. Panned on release but it's now seen as a bit of a cult classic. Based on a comic strip."

"How do you know all this?"

"I'd love to say I know everything..." Ianto grinned ruefully. "Jack and I watched the movie a couple of weeks ago. It's set in the 40th century - I thought he'd enjoy it, and I thought he could confirm or deny how true it is to the real thing. It's a sex romp so of course he enjoyed it, he found it funny too. He said that they had no record of the movie and that it wasn't that far off the truth. I shudder to think."

"What do you mean... sex-romp?" Gwen was slightly disturbed.

"Right, right" Ianto reassured her. "Barbarella, that's you, is a space detective looking for a man called Duran Duran. She arrives on the planet SoGo. Meets lots of men, has sex with them, meets and defeats the baddies. I'm Pygar, the last of the ornithanthropes. Based on where we are and what you're wearing, we just had sex and you've given me back my confidence to fly."

Gwen began to laugh out loud at the thought of her and Ianto having sex, laughed at the whole idea of it.

"You've got to calm yourself Gwen. I need your help; I've never been blind before. I don't know what to do. I'm going to have to depend on you. Yes, this may be mad, it may be impossible, but right here, right now, it's real for us. We have to find out what's happened. We have to find Jack and the others."

Gwen's laughter tailed off as she took in his words. It was at once ridiculous and serious.

"We can only assume that the others are in the same situation" she suggested. "We have to find them."

"We have to get out of here Gwen – we can't get caught up in the story" he paused and grinned "We have to lose the plot"

Gwen barked out a laugh and then whirled round as an energy beam hit the cliff face – a close one; she had felt the heat on her cheek.

"Ianto, we've being fired at... Think! What's happening?"

"It's the leathermen, and get that smirk off your face, the only way is up. I have to fly us both out of here. You'll have to shoot and be my eyes."

Gwen reached for the blaster pistol as Ianto scooped her into his arms, unfolding his wings.

"This is so weird" he thought as he began flapping. Nothing happened. He made his wings beat harder and felt himself to lift off the ground in fits and starts. "First time for everything" he thought, beginning to get a feel for flying. He jiggled Gwen in his arms, to bring her closer to his centre of gravity.

"Ianto? Where are your hands?" Gwen huffed, focussed on firing back at the bizarre leatherclad figures.

"Oh, sorry, I had to shift you about, or we'll not take off. That better?"

"Much" she was firing hard.

"I need you to tell me where to fly when we get going."

Ianto's wings took the strain and they began to get some lift.

"I'll have to find a thermal to get more height, at least out of blaster range, but I can't carry you for long."

Gwen marvelled at Ianto's practicality in the face of the bizarre situation, but was soon distracted by another pot shot. She raised the blaster, returning fire.

As the two Torchwood operatives went higher and higher they were unaware that they were being observed. A mysterious figure chuckled and turned a page.

* * *

_**AN:** Did you like, loathe, love this? Concrit is warmly courted. Please contact me with any combinations of TW characters and fiction books/films/tv shows you fancy... like Mr Jones, I aim to please._


	3. Chapter 2: Into the woods

_Please see the prologue for details of disclaimers and the rest. This chapter contains Owen, so it contains swearing (natch!)._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!

Tosh woke with a start. Someone was at the door. She sat upright and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, andf groped for her bedside light, and kept groping, her fingers failing to find the switch. It was gloomy and she felt a cool breeze.

Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!

Again the knocking noise, but being more awake she realised that it wasn't her door, it was something else.

Her realisation came from her observation of available data. The pitch, tone, echo and reverberation of the sound indicated it was high up, outdoors; a rhythmic striking. The low light levels hampered visual confirmation but she smelt what she called a bosky smell; a mix of leaf mould, pine sap and floral scents. Plus the fact she didn't even have a door knocker.

She pulled herself to her feet and tried to look around her. It was late afternoon she guessed, going by the waning sunlight. However there was just enough light left to make out shapes.

She was standing in a trackway in the middle of a forest. Judging by the tree shapes she could guessed it was somewhere in Central Europe but with subtle differences. The trees were straighter; a little more spread apart than normal, more flowering bushes and shrubs, there was the winking and blinking of motes in the air as they caught the last rays of the sun. It was all a little too perfect, a little too much like the idea of a forest, rather than the real thing. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Looking down she noticed she wasn't wearing her usual blouse and skirt, but a long blue dress with a white waistband, a white petticoat, red and white striped socks and her feet looked huge in a pair of hobnail boots; she patted her head and felt, rather than saw, that her hair was parted right down the middle and dressed in plaits. Slung over one shoulder was a pack. "_Oh! That's not right._"

A rustle in a nearby bush made her twist round, crouching ready to fight or run. She had no weapon, so she'd have to fall back on the hand-to-hand combat techniques that Jack had drilled into them after the events in the Brecon Beacons.

Judging by the sound of the rustle it was a large animal – wolf or bear she supposed. Her plan changed as she looked at the nearby trees, working out which would be the easiest to climb. The creature moved again and she physically saw the bush move. Heart pounding, she waited, poised and ready.

"Awww shit! What the bleeding hell am I doing in a bush?" came a loud London accent. "What the hell was I drinking?"

"Owen!" Tosh had recognised his voice immediately; relief flooding through her. She started to move towards the bush.

"Tosh?" He sounded puzzled. "Were we doing karaoke last night?"

As she got closer, the bush suddenly sprouted a head. It looked so comical that she giggled, instinctively bringing up her hand to cover her mouth.

Looking up at her, Owen through to himself that you could take the girl out of Japan, but not Japan out of the girl.

"A bit of a hand wouldn't go amiss. I can't get out, I'm stuck on something."

Tosh reached down with both hands to grab the hand that Owen offered. She gave a heavy pull and was rewarded with expletives.

"Bloody hell Tosh. You'll have my arm off. On my count."

She relaxed her grip a little.

"1... 2... 3... Pull!"

As she pulled and he pushed there was the sound of fabric tearing and suddenly she was flat on her back with Owen on top of her. She was reminded of just how wiry and male Owen's body was. They stared into each other's eyes, panting from their exertions. Suddenly aware of how intimate this was, she blushed. Owen grunted and rolled away from her.

Both lay flat on their backs, staring up at the early evening stars that were just beginning to appear.

"So," drawled Owen. "Let's see what trouble we've got into now."

He pulled himself up and looked over at Tosh, barely making out her figure in the twilight.

"What do you look like?"

"Speak for yourself, urchin."

Owen glanced down and did a double take. He was no longer in his usual jeans and a t-shirt. He now wore a pair of raggedy, patched, knee length shorts, grey woollen socks tucked into big brown boots, a patched grey shirt with a great big tear on the shoulder, and a brown waistcoat. His head felt warm and, reaching up, he pulled off a brown wool baker's boy cap. Slung over his shoulder was a cloth bag.

"What the hell!"

"I don't know, you look kind of sweet. The littlest hobo."

Owen threw her a look, showing her just how impressed he was by his new wardrobe. He sighed.

"No weapons, no tools, no devices. Just two of the sharpest brains in Cardiff. Any idea where we are Tosh?"

"We're not in Wales any more. Central Europe, southern Germany, I think."

"Bloody Jack Harkness" spat Owen. "That damn book he dropped, clumsy arse."

"Oh!" Tosh too remembered what had happened. "Where are the others? Jack! ... Ianto! ... Gwen?"

"OI! TEA-BOY!"

There was no reply to their shouts – only the hoot of an owl.

"So just you and me. We're not going anywhere tonight. Let's get a fire going. Go and get some sticks, dry ones."

"Owen, we don't have matches or a lighter. How can we have a fire?"

"Ah Tosh. Even though I am a devastatingly handsome babe magnet of a medic, as a nipper I was in the scouts. I can make a fire."

"Gosh, how caveman of you" joked Tosh.

"Go woman. Bring wood. Me make fire!"

While Tosh groped around, searching for dry twigs, bark and wood, Owen began gathering his fire starting materials.

The base of a nearby tree gave him some dry stuff – moss probably – and Tosh had brought a couple of likely looking twigs. He began the laborious process of making fire.

Ten minutes or so later, after a few false starts and lots of swearing, the dry stuff started to smoulder. Owen blew gently to increase the glow and gently fed the twigs in until flames began to flicker. Not long afterwards there was a cheerful fire crackling away.

"What's in your bag?"

Tosh opened the cloth bag. "Erm, two wrinkly apples, a chunk of bread and some very hard cheese – what's in yours?"

"Hmmm. Penknife, string and loads of white stones?" Owen was puzzled.

"Food, fire, weapons... that's the basics covered then." Tosh was doing her best to sound optimistic.

"All well and good Tosh, but where are we? Where are the others? How do we get back?"

"I don't know" Tosh sounded angry but Owen could see in her eyes that she was a bit bewildered and frightened. His expression softened. "Not much we can do tonight. Let's eat and sleep in shifts."

Tosh pulled the bread and cheese from the bag and quickly shared it out. They ate in silence, staring into the fire, each full of their own thoughts.

A loud pop from the fire brought Tosh awake. She'd fallen asleep a little. She heard a shuffle behind her, and turned to see Owen walking towards the fire with an armful of wood. There was a decent enough stack of wood now – at least enough to last the night.

"I'll take first watch, you sleep. It'll be cold, even with the fire. We'll need to huddle."

Tosh couldn't help but give a small smile – for all his prickle and bluster Owen was a good man. She sat down next to him and felt his arm fall on her shoulder. "It'll be fine Tosh, we're Torchwood. Grrrr."

* * *

She woke again to hear Owen calling her name and to feel him stroking her hair. Opening her eyes she saw the fire at an odd angle. Her head was in his lap! She sat up, rubbing at her mouth, checking for drool – embarrassed at being so close to his... well... yes...

"You looked so peaceful I nearly didn't wake you – but I'm almost asleep myself."

Tosh nodded, still shaking off sleep. She rubbed her eyes and cleared her throat. "Anything happen?"

"Some night visitors skirting the fire but not too big."

"Okay. Tit for tat?"

"What!?"

"Come and lie down and sleep, I'll protect you." She smiled.

"Don't get any ideas." He warned as he arranged himself to sleep, head in her lap.

"Never" as she returned the favour, her sensitive fingertips soothing his brow.

He was soon asleep and Tosh sat listening to the night and feeding the fire.

* * *

The light began to take a pink blush, so Tosh began to wake Owen. He snorted, coughed and pulled upright. "I'm awake, I'm awake". Rubbing his cheeks there was the rasp of skin on stubble. "I bet I look rough."

"No more than usual." teased Tosh.

His eyes narrowed in mock bad temper. "Whereas you look like you stepped out of a picture book."

Tosh held his gaze for a few seconds and then offered him an apple. "Breakfast?"

"Don't mind if I do."

They munched as the fire died away in a final puff of smoke. "Right, time to get this show on the road. Find out what's going on and whose arse needs kicked for getting us in this mess."

Tosh nodded. "I miss Ianto's coffee" she added mournfully.

"Oh god, I'd kill for one of his brews right now."

"Come on Owen, let's go. No use lusting for what we can't have."

As soon as the words left her mouth she began to flush; covering, she turned, beginning to examine their surroundings by the light of day. Owen gave her the time to get over her embarrassment and then he too looked around. Two paths led away from their impromptu campsite. "Eeny, meeny..." he thought.

"That way" declared Tosh, pointing to the path that led towards the rising sun.

"Why?"

"Because"

"Why?"

"I don't know, just feels the right direction. East is always a good direction for me.

"Okay" one direction was a good as another to him.

Owen kicked over the remains of the fire as Tosh made sure everything useful went back in their packs. They started down the eastward path, walking in single file and scanning the surrounding forest, alert for anything untoward. In the daylight the forest seemed to be more foresty – Tosh's feelings about it from yesterday came back to her.

"Owen, notice anything unusual about his forest?"

"Can't say I do – can't stand the countryside, one forest looks like all the rest."

"Hmmph. It's too perfect. It's too neat and too like a theme park for me."

"Give it a rest Tosh" he snarked at her back. "I want to get back home; I don't care what kind of forest it is."

Tosh drew up to her full height and walked forward purposefully. "_Fine. If he was going to be like that..._" she thought.

She stopped suddenly as the path forked before her. Owen bumped into her and peered over her shoulder. "Left or right, o wise one?"

"Always go left, that's what to do in a maze, I think."

Owen shrugged, and they headed off down the path. Three lefts later and they stumbled out of the forest and into a clearing. More of a meadow really. In the middle was a small house, a cottage.

Tosh looked at Owen and looked back at the house. It looked, from a distance, to be a typical European wood-built cottage – thatched roof, wooden walls, fretwork, little windows, and a rambling chimney stack with a wisp of smoke creeping out of it.

"At least someone's at home" observed Owen.

They moved a little closer, and Tosh started to notice some peculiarities. The panes in the windows were transparent but didn't look like glass. The leading around the panes looked soft and squidgy. There was something funny looking about the straw roof. And the walls looked, well, odd.

It was now that she really wished she had her PDA. Just something familiar to help make sense of the strangeness.

"Owen, have you seen anything like this?"

"Not exactly... It's familiar, but I can't think where I've seen it. Never been on this kind of holiday. I was more of an Ibiza man."

Tosh nodded, yes, that fitted with what she knew of him.

"What shall we do? Just go up and knock or do a recce?"

"Recce" decided Owen. "You take the back and I'll take the front, but let's do a perimeter search first."

They slowly walked around the edge of the clearing, checking the cottage and also the routes out. There was another path, opposite the one they arrived along.

"Owen! Look!" Tosh pointed down the path. Owen peered into the woods and saw a flash of red as a figure just moved out of sight. "Should we follow?"

"Nah, it's only a kid or something. Besides, I'm hungry – maybe there's food in the cottage."

At his words Tosh realised she was hungry too. They completed the circle and made their way down the path towards the house. The closer they got, the more details they could make out, and the more puzzled they became.

All thought of splitting up left their minds; without realising they were holding hands as they walked up the path to the front door of the house. The first thing they noticed was the smell – sweet with hints of fruit and spices. Up close the walls of the house had a porous quality. Tosh reached up and touched the wall. "It's sticky" she pulled her hand away and sniffed her fingers. "It smells of baking."

Owen did a double take and reached up into the thatch. "This is sticky too" He sniffed. "Sugar... Toffee...?"

"Are you trying to suggest the house is edible?"

"Going on the evidence, I'd say it was. Want a taste?"

Tosh broke off a piece of the eaves and taking a morsel, popped it in her mouth. Her eyes widened and she smiled. "It tastes like that cake Ianto gets when he feels that we need a treat."

"Ginger cake?" Tosh nodded in agreement.

"Mmmmhmmmm" Tosh had stuffed the rest of the piece in her mouth and was chewing.

"About time we said hello" said Owen.

They walked around to the door, before Owen had even raised his fist to pound on it, it fell open to reveal a little old lady dressed all in black.

"Hello my dears. You look weary and footsore. Come in, come in."

Tosh and Owen glanced at each other and entered the house warily.

"Thank you. We've been in the woods all night and found your cottage. I'm sorry but I've eaten a tiny piece of your house. There was nothing to eat, you see" explained Tosh.

"No matter my dear. You must both be very hungry. Sit down, sit down."

The old lady gestured to a fully laden table. A large jug of milk, fruitcake, éclairs, buns, tea bread, biscuits, fancies, bon-bons, fairy cakes and lots more sweet things were piled on the table.

"Eat... drink..." urged the old woman, as she poured each of them a glass of milk.

Hunger won over caution as they both tucked in. Owen shovelled the food in, while Tosh nibbled daintily – both managed to make a fair dent on the food.

"Gosh," yawned Tosh "I'm sleepy."

Owen answered her yawn with one of his own. "Too much sugar" he groaned.

With that they both fell fast asleep at the table.

* * *

Tosh woke with a start – someone had called her name. "Tosh!" whispered Own desperately.

She looked to where Owen's voice came from. A curtain had been pulled back and she could see he was in a cage. "What's happened?"

"We were drugged and that crone has shoved me in here and tied you up. I knew it was too good to be true."

Tosh looked down to see her ankles and wrists had been tied to the chair. She tested the knots but they were expertly and tightly done. She looked around, searching for something sharp – nothing was in sight. She began rocking her chair, trying to move over to Owen so he could untie her. In her haste she overbalanced and toppled over. The noise of her fall echoed through the house. Tosh froze as she heard the door to the room opened.

"Deary me, someone had a little accident, did they?"

The crone moved across the room and effortlessly picked Tosh up – chair and all – and set her right.

"Why have you done this? Let us go!"

"Oh, I couldn't do that my little chick. You and the little piggy in the cage are mine now."

"What do you want us for?"

"Gingerbread is all well and good, but I like something savoury now and again, and nothing tastes better than fattened little children like you."

Tosh and Owen exchanged glances – "Children?" mouthed Tosh.

"I'm going to get an enchanted chain and bind you to the kitchen, I need a scullery girl. He's first for my oven and you're going to cook delicious things to help me fatten him up."

With that the crone left them.

"Tosh, I know what's going on now. This is Hansel and Gretel. It's a bloody fairytale."

"Hansel and who?"

Owen realised that the Japanese woman probably had never heard the story. Hell, he'd nearly forgotten it himself.

"Never mind. She's a witch and wants to eat us. If I remember it right, Gretel somehow bungs her in the oven and roasts her."

Toshiko's nose wrinkled at the thought. She sighed and said "What do we do now? Have you still got the knife?"

He reached into the pouch. "No... She must have it."

"So we wait until she tries to chain me and then I try something?"

"Can't think of anything else to do."

"Hmmm"

They fell silent as the witch came back again.

"Here we are, my little chick." With that she brandished a fine golden chain. She grabbed Tosh's arm and began to undo one of the knots.

Owen saw in Tosh's eyes that she'd retreated into herself. "_C'mon Tosh, don't wimp out on me now_" he thought.

As the last of the knot was unpicked, and the witch fumbled for the end of the chain, Tosh struck. Owen marvelled at the speed and accuracy of the punch she threw. The upper cut hit the witch hard, as Tosh hadn't held back and knew that this was her only chance.

The witch went over as if pole axed. Tosh used the free hand to scrabble at her other wrist – trying to loosen it. All the time she kept glancing down at the witch, who looked to be out for the count. When the rope was loose enough she pulled her slim hand free. She twisted in the chair and reached for a cast-iron frying pan on the stove, and whacked the witch with it, hard. There was a clang and a groan.

"What did you hit her again for?"

"Didn't... want... her... coming round... too soon" panted Tosh as she worked on the rope around her ankles.

"Ianto's right – you ARE twisted."

Tosh grinned up at him. "Good job too, eh?" as she freed her feet.

Tosh quickly took the rope and bound the witch, taking care to make the knots as intricate as possible. Owen nodded his approval. Tosh rarely let nerves get the better of her, and although he wanted out, and fast, he saw the sense in immobilising the crone.

"Keys Tosh, check her for the key to this" he urged as he rattled the cage door.

Tosh quickly searched the old woman, patting her down. "_Damn, no sign of the keys_" she thought. It had to be a big key to fit the lock of the cage.

"I'll be back, yell if she comes to." With that she made her way quickly out of the room.

Owen heard the sounds of doors and drawers being opened and slammed shut, along with muttered Japanese, which he took to be Tosh swearing.

Tosh came back into the room with a triumphant grin on her face as she held the key aloft. "Hanging up at the door" she explained as she moved nimbly to the cage and fed the key into the lock. With a click, the cage door swung open and Owen nipped quickly past her.

"Help me Tosh; let's get her in the cage". Tosh stepped over to Owen and pulled on the crone's feet – the two of them easily manhandled the witch into the cage, and locked her in. Not a moment too soon, as the woman was starting to come round. Owen sat in the chair and kept a gimlet eye on the witch, keeping his focus on her, as Tosh went round the room, picking up food and tools and stuffing them into the bags.

Owen could see the witch was conscious, even though her eyes hadn't opened; with his training and the experiences he'd had in his time with Torchwood he could tell.

"We're off now, and we're taking the key. If we happen across any woodcutters, hunters or wolves, we'll point them in your direction, alright?"

Tosh handed Owen his bag and threw the door wide open. They made their way out of the clearing and back into the wood, determined to find a way out.

"I thought that went quite well, in the end. Didn't you?"

"Well? WELL? I was nearly fattened and roasted. How can that be 'Well', eh?"

"I would never have let that happen, Owen. Jack'd kill me. But, you know, I think we work well as a team, you distract them and I clobber them."

"Hmmm, s'pose so. That's a mean right hook you've got there Tosh. Don't want to get on the wrong side of you."

Their voices drifted off as they made their way down the path, gently bickering with each other.

The unseen observer licked a finger, and turned the page.

* * *

**AN:** What's happened to Jack, I hear you cry? He's in the next chapter... somehow he's in domestic bliss with Ianto. Is it too good to be true?

Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Ianto Jones wants a pony! Search on Google for "Ianto Jones wants a pony".


	4. Chapter 3: Fairfield County, Connecticut

**AN:** _Jack's turn, domestic bliss with his Ianto? This chapter contains male/male sex, and violence. Don't read any further if you don't like._

Another beautiful day in Fairfield County, Connecticut. A cornflower blue sky, brilliant sunshine beaming down. Warm and balmy - a delight. Neighbours greet each other in the street, children play, pies are baked, and lawns are tended. Perfection.

Out on Old Farm Road lies a colonial farmhouse, a big place, much extended over time. Whitewashed clapboard wall, blue framed windows, a sloping lawn in front, well tended borders. Two cars sit in the driveway - an SUV and a station wagon. Round back is much larger - a kitchen garden, an orchard, a vast lawn, a summer house, a pool, stables, a barbecue, a terrace with table and awnings. A lovely big family home.

A man closes the gate from the orchard and walks up the lawn, smiling fondly at two children playing with a small dog. He steps in through French windows into the kitchen, a basket of fruit under his arm.

Above the kitchen, white drapes flutter at an open window, they dance in the late morning breeze. In through the window, and there's a large master bedroom. Stripped and polished wooden floor, the walls decorated in a delicate stripe, a few well chosen antique pieces of furniture, including a vast bed, facing the window.

The bed is dressed in crisp white linen, pillows all askew. The bed is rumpled as it's occupied. A handsome man lies sprawled like a starfish under the sheets - a good firm jaw and a thick head of hair, late thirties, if his face is anything to go by. His chest rises and falls in restful slumber.

* * *

Captain Jack Harkness gasped awake. Something had woken him from a dreamless sleep. His head ached a little as he heard the sound of children's voices trying to quieten an excited dog.

Jack lay there, taking in his surroundings. No immediate threat: no guns pointing at him, no sinister figures ready to pounce, no drooling aliens - not even a Weevil.

He quickly scanned the room. "Nice", he thought, "Must be a hotel or a B&B or something – Ianto treating me to some R'n'R?". His eyes spotted a doorway he assumed led to a bathroom. Throwing off the covers he planted his feet firmly on the floor. He raised an eyebrow as he spotted he was wearing boxers and a t-shirt. Odd, normally he was naked.

The sound of a tenor voice humming floated up the stairs. Pulling on a robe hanging from the door, air force blue, he noted, he wrapped himself up and padded his way down the wide staircase, following the humming. At the foot of the stairs he noticed formal sitting and dining rooms. Both were decorated in keeping with the bedroom he'd just left. Turning he made his way as quietly as possible to the rear of the house, the humming sounding louder, a word or two sneaking in to be sung out loud.

Jack stopped and folded his arms, leaning on the doorframe of a large, well appointed kitchen. Sunlight flooded in through the windows, backlighting the figure before him. The sound which had awoken him, the children and dog, floated in through the open French doors.

He stopped to admire the view, and not the one out of the window. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he took in the details of the humming figure. 5'11", floppy, sun-lightened brown hair, barefoot. A finely shaped ass was sadly covered by chinos; the tapering back was clad in a pink polo shirt. He watched the deft, neat way that a lightly haired arm reached across to pull open a drawer and retrieve a pair of scissors, the muscles in the arm bunching and relaxing most pleasingly.

"Jones, Ianto Jones, you are a sight for weary eyes."

"Jack!" cried Ianto as he turned around, pleasure in his voice.

Jack started at the sight of the boy, no, scratch that, the man before him. It was Ianto, but older, happier? Ianto looked as if he was in his mid-thirties and life was treating him well. Jack recovered from the initial shock, and drawing a broad smile on his face, appraised the man before him.

Ianto had filled out as he'd matured, his thin frame had broadened at the shoulders, his hips leaner, but his upper body more defined. Tufts of chest hair peeked out of the open neck of the polo shirt. But it was Ianto's face that had changed the most; the last of the puppy fat had gone and his face was all angles – jaw, cheekbones, and brow. The sexy pout was still there, but hard to see, as Ianto was grinning broadly. His eyes had more crow's feet, but had lost the guarded look, the look of being haunted. Ianto now sported a neatly trimmed beard and his hair was the longest that Jack had seen it, lightened by the sun. His skin was tanned to a healthy glow with a smattering of freckles across his nose. He looked damn good, but what the hell was going on?

"Jack, what is it? Why are you staring? Do I have something on my face?"

"No" Jack drawled, stalling. "Just admiring your... hair" He grabbed at the first thing he could think of.

"Oh ... yes ... this? It's wonderful!" Ianto ran a hand through his hair, a hand with a wedding band. "Do you like it? You said it was a little long yesterday, so I went straight to the barbers."

"I like it, suits you. But what's going on? Where are we? When are we?"

Ianto gave Jack a puzzled smile. "What do you mean Cariad? We're home."

"You sure? We live in Cardiff." Jack smiled dangerously at Ianto, but Ianto failed to see the danger or chose to ignore it.

"We haven't lived in Cardiff for 5 years now. Oh dear, that bump on your head must have been worse than I thought. It's affected your memory". Concern in his eyes, Ianto stepped forward and felt Jack's temple. "The bump's still there – do you need a doctor? Does it hurt?"

Jack tensed then relaxed as he felt Ianto's nimble fingers on his skin. "A little bit sore, and a bit of a headache – what happened?"

"I came back from running errands to see you run straight into a tree. You must have been playing tag with the kids. You passed out for a few seconds and when you came round you were a bit groggy. I got the kids calmed down and then carried you upstairs." He flexed his arms. "I'm a lot stronger than I was when we first met". He grinned.

Jack was gobsmacked and stared blankly at Ianto.

"Jack, are you really OK?"

"Kids? What kids? Whose kids?"

Ianto looked hurt. "Our kids, Jack. Ours..." Ianto paused. "I'm worried now; I'm going to call the doctor."

"NO!" shouted Jack. "No doctor."

Ianto reddened a little. "Ok," he said meekly "No doctor, just as you wish."

Ianto led Jack by the hand over to the table.

"Sit down, I've made coffee. We can talk a little."

Jack sat down at the table, racking his brains, trying to remember everything, anything, as Ianto bustled around the kitchen. He brought over a tray with cups, saucers, cream, sugar and a steaming pot of coffee.

"There you go Cariad." Ianto soothed as he poured "That'll help."

Jack brought the cup to his lips, and took a sip – it was good, but not Ianto's usual excellent brew. He must have pulled a face.

"Something wrong with it? I can make more." Ianto seemed so eager to please.

"No, it's fine. I must still be a bit woozy". He decided to go along with what Ianto was telling him - he had no reason not to trust, not now anyway.

"Poor Jack" smiled Ianto. "What's the last thing you remember? You do remember me at least." He smiled encouragingly at Jack.

"The very last thing was the five of us at the Hub. You brought something up from the archives, a book. I dropped it."

Ianto's brow furrowed as he tried to remember.

Jack took another sip, it still tasted good – perhaps it was the water.

"Oh! Now I remember... Jack, that was 10 years ago... Oh dear, you have forgotten a lot."

"So fill me in..." he grinned salaciously. Ianto said nothing but Jack noticed the subtle change in Ianto's posture. He moved so his body was facing Jack, his arms and shoulders opening, his hips tilting forward, pupils dilating. If Jack didn't know any better, he'd swear that Ianto was yielding to Jack's manner and voice, making himself available at a trademark grin. Ianto had obviously changed a lot in 10 years.

"Not long after that, Gwen married Rhys – she kept working at Torchwood until she became pregnant. You and Rhys put your feet down and told her she had to take proper maternity leave. Martha recommended Steve Jones as cover for Gwen, ex-SAS. The two of you prowled round each other like tomcats over territory. At the end of Gwen's first maternity leave, Tosh and Owen got married. It was fine for the about 6 months or so, but then Tosh got badly injured and they both came to you. Said they wouldn't sign on for another five years, but asked not be retconned. You were so good Jack, you let them go intact – they had to leave the UK, of course, so went to Japan – they're still in touch – Owen and his 5 girls – they've got 4 daughters, can you imagine? Martha was fed up with UNIT by then, so she became our medic and Tom moved to Cardiff too. When Gwen become pregnant for the second time she decided to leave – Rhys and her boys were a bigger pull than you and Torchwood. So you got Steve back permanently – the lesser of two evils I think you said at the time. It was funny, you'd shout Jones and all three of us would answer." Ianto paused to take another sip of his coffee.

"What about us?"

"About the time Gwen had her first baby, the rest of you were out after a Hoix. The rift machine was giving odd readings, I was doing a scan for Tosh and there was a rift flare.... When you got back I was still unconscious. I was out for 5 days; Owen said you barely left my side. About 3 months after that, I was getting fatter, I couldn't fasten my trousers, so I watched what I was eating and still got bigger. Then at my annual physical we all got a big surprise. I was six months along in the world's first male pregnancy – we think – Torchwood's archives are a bit cagey on that. The best we could guess was that the rift flare had changed me, inside. Tosh was so pleased, Gwen too when she heard, endless advice on how to cope. Owen just kept smirking and wagging a finger at you." Ianto grinned at the memory.

"Steve took a while to get his head around it. You were reluctant to start with, concerned about me. Then you made a decision; you got us a house, and made an honest man of me. You stuck with me right the way through".

Ianto's eyes had moistened at the memory and he reached across the table for Jack's hand.

"It was then that I realised you really, truly loved me. Jack Junior was born 8 years ago – he went to the same day-care centre as Gwen's two. Tosh had someone make up Pteranadon cuddly toys for all the Torchwood babies – made for interesting conversations with the staff. 2 years later and we had another little accident. But we knew what to expect, and Martha was brilliant. Tessa arrived just as Jack Jnr turned two. A handful, just like his father! About 6 months later the Doctor came back. It had been tough; you'd confined me to the Hub, a crèche in one of the old store rooms. But the Doctor... he gave us the best gift of all. He fixed you Jack. Took you into the Tardis and when you came out you were mortal. He offered to take you wherever you wanted, any time or place; you didn't pause. You grabbed my hand and said: 'Right here, right now – I've got all I want and need'. Oh Cariad..."

Ianto wiped the tears from his eyes and took a deep breath.

"We kept going at Torchwood for another year. But you were more and more distracted, wanting to spend more time with me and the children. So we resigned and decided to move. We stuck a pin in a map and ended up here, in Connecticut. A hundred years of unspent salary meant you were really wealthy. We moved here 5 years ago. It's a good town, we've got good friends and the children are happy, I'm happy – you are too. I have a lovely home, beautiful children and a handsome husband – what more could I want?"

Jack's coffee had gone cold. He had children? He was married? He lived in the US? He was mortal? It all sounded insane but somehow plausible.

"I'm mortal again?"

"Yes, that's why the lump on your head hasn't disappeared. Come and look in the mirror."

Ianto led Jack through to the entrance hall, a large oval mirror over a console table.

"See, still got the lump"

Jack didn't see the lump – he was gazing at his reflection seeing the passage of time. His boyish handsomeness had made way for craggy good looks; the hair at his temples had gone gray. He reached up to touch it.

"My silver fox" murmured Ianto proudly, huskily.

Jack pulled Ianto into an embrace and felt Ianto respond. As he leant in for a kiss, he saw Ianto's eyes close. Ianto was open and accepted Jack's powerful invasive tongue. He still tasted of Ianto – but with a metallic tang. Mouthwash perhaps or body chemistry changing over time – 10 years and two kids must have changed him.

Just as Ianto moaned and wrapped himself to fit snugly against Jack's body, there was the sound of scampering and cries of "Daddy" and "Tad". Two small people looked up at them.

"Is Daddy better now, Tad?"

"Daddy's feeling a lot better now Jack, but that nasty bump on the head has made him forgetful, but don't worry."

The little girl, Tessa, had grabbed at Ianto's legs and stood looking up at Jack thoughtfully. Jack could see that his son took after him, and his daughter took after Ianto. Both had his dark hair and Ianto's button nose. Cute looking kids. He grinned down at them.

"Jack Jnr, Tessa – go and put Trevor in his kennel and run upstairs and get changed now, we'll be leaving soon."

A sulky face and a pouty face stared at Ianto. "Do as your father tells you, kids" said Jack, thinking he had to step in and at least play the parent, if he didn't quite feel it.

The two children ran back outside and then tore past them on their way upstairs.

"Why is it when you ask them they jump to it, but when I do, it's a battle" smiled Ianto.

"It must be my natural authority – after all, you always do as you're told" grinned Jack.

He expected some kind of sardonic quip, or an eye roll, but Ianto just nodded. "Yes I do, you're the man of the house."

Jack masked his surprise at Ianto's reaction, "What's this about going out?"

"Oh, we're going over to the Axhelm's for brunch – we all take turns on a Sunday. Though I'm not sure we'll see the Van Sant's, Carol was in an auto-accident at the supermarket yesterday. Nothing serious, just a fender-bender, but they took her to hospital. Do you still want to go? I can take the kids, and leave you here. I'm sure your men's association friends will understand."

"No... I think I'll come along, but don't leave my side; I'll need you for intel. "

"As if I'd leave your side, Cariad, you do say the funniest things".

"Ianto, what's the Men's Association?"

"Oh, it's a club you're a member of. Only the most wealthy and influential men in the town go along. Though I'm not sure what you all get up to." Ianto smiled indulgently at his husband.

"Why not? Aren't you a member too?"

"No, I wasn't invited, and you seem happy enough, you're there about 3 nights a week."

"Better get ready then. Care to join me in the shower Mr Jones?"

"Certainly Jack, but it's Mr Harkness, I took your name. Captain and Mr. Jack Harkness – see it's on the mail"

Jack was starting to get annoyed. Annoyed he couldn't remember these things, as it was obvious it was true, there was the mail, his and Ianto's appearance, the children, there were photographs in every room – the evidence of a shared history was everywhere.

He stomped up the stairs and flung off the clothes, heading straight for the bathroom. Perhaps a shower would ease the knots of tension – it did, and even more so when Ianto joined him for some sudsy fun.

* * *

Ianto drove them to the Axhelm's place in town. The children talking quietly in the back as Jack held a couple of loaves of Bara Brith – their contribution to the event. He stared out of the window as they drove along – everything was so neat and tidy. Nothing out of place, even the garbage cans were clean. No wonder Ianto thought it was a good town – it must appeal to the neat freak in him.

They parked in front of the house, on the street, as the driveway was full of cars. The children ran on ahead but Jack and Ianto took their time, Ianto putting his arm through Jacks as they made their way round the side of the house. They followed the sound of voices and came to a large patio, the table laden and groaning with food. Small groups of people were dotted around the patio and lawn, chatting politely.

"Ianto! Jack! How lovely to see you!" a petite blonde had turned to greet them.

"Hello Marie. How are you?"

"I'm fine Ianto. How are you?

"I'm fine. How are the children? "

"Fine. How are yours? "

"Fine. Though Jack had a little accident earlier today, lost his memory a little."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What have you got there?"

"It's my mother's recipe, Bara Brith, a Welsh fruit cake."

"How lovely, thank you. Help yourself to drinks."

They picked up an iced tea from the table and started to circulate.

"The Markowes and the Eberharts – Bobbie and Dave, and Joanna and Walter" murmured Ianto in Jack's ear.

"Hello, Bobbie. "

"Hello, Ianto."

"How are you? "

"I'm fine. How are you?"

"I'm fine. How are the children?"

"Fine."

"Hello, Joanna. "

"Hello, Ianto."

"How are you? "

"I'm fine. How are you?"

"I'm fine. How are the children?"

"Fine."

Jack watched Ianto chat with the wives and spent half an ear listening to Dave and Walter going on about their golf game. He pulled at Ianto's elbow, "C'mon Ianto-honey, we should circulate." Ianto smiled at the two couples as Jack pulled him away.

As the afternoon wore on Jack become bored, so very bored. It was all so insipid. Sure they were all nice enough people, the women were all great looking, but conversation never seemed to get beyond polite enquiries about people's health. Anytime his memory loss was spoke of, Ianto would explain and finish up with an expression on his face that said "Tsk! Men!"

The only high point, as far as Jack was concerned, was Carol van Sant's behaviour after she'd tasted Ianto's cake. She looked as if she'd had an orgasm and spent the rest of the afternoon telling everyone repeatedly "I'll just die if I don't get this recipe. I'll just die if I don't get this recipe. I'll just die if I don't get this recipe". Jack had grinned at her behaviour, but the rest, including Ianto, seemed a little embarrassed. In the end her husband Ted shepherded her home.

To get away, Jack faked a headache – which wasn't far from the truth. Ianto was concerned and quickly rounded up the children and made their goodbyes, while Jack waited in the car.

On the way home, Ianto chattered on brightly about how lovely the afternoon had been, how nice it was to see everyone, how delicious the food was. His smile only dropped a little thinking of Jack's memory loss and Carol van Sant.

"Poor Carol, it wasn't like her at all. Maybe I should go round later, see how she is."

Jack grunted a response – too distracted by his own thoughts. As if he'd tempted fate, his head was pounding when they got home. He went straight up stairs, calling out to Ianto. "Two Advil and water, now!"

By the time he'd got undressed, Ianto stood in front of him – bottle of pills and a glass of water on a tray.

"I'll just leave it here; I'll draw the curtains and let you rest. I'll come and see how you are later."

Jack took the pills and lay on the bed. The summer afternoon carried on around him. Birdsong and lawnmowers in the distance, the children playing quietly with the dog outside, from within the house the sounds of Ianto cleaning and cooking. So very domestic. The pills kicked in and he drifted off into a doze.

He awoke to find Ianto standing over him – his expression completely blank. Not a polite mask but emotionless. When he saw Jack was looking at him, it was if a switch had been flicked. Ianto sat on the side of the bed, and leant over.

"Hello... How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, how are you?" answered Jack devilishly, hoping for a reaction.

"I'm fine, dinner in an hour? The kids have had theirs"

"Sounds fine" Jack looked up at Ianto. God but he was handsome. "Shut and lock the door and come to bed."

Ianto did as he was told and was soon under the covers. Jack leant across to Ianto. "You're still dressed" he growled.

"Sorry, you didn't say"

Jack was ticked off by Ianto's literalness, he wasn't normally so, well, clueless.

"Ah, I can sort that." And grabbed at Ianto's neckline, ripping the shirt wide open. No reaction other than Ianto gazing adoringly up at him. Jack's irritation grew a little more; he fumbled at Ianto's belt and ripped open his trousers. All Ianto did was raise a hand to caress Jack's face. "Cariad" he sighed.

Jack was annoyed. In the past, Ianto would have protested, but now he accepted it, as if it was expected.

"Hold tight, you're in for a bumpy ride."

Jack speared himself into Ianto – this wasn't lovey-dovey, this was angry sex. All the while Jack pounded him, Ianto touched Jack in all the right places, egging him on, but still with that damned adoring look on his face.

"Oh, Jack you're the best, you're the champ, you're the master...! "

Jack felt the tickle of his oncoming orgasm and really began to thrust into Ianto – so much so that Ianto's head banged repeatedly against the headboard – without complaint.

Jack came with a roar and a snarl, and watched as Ianto pulled the back of his hand to his mouth and moaned softly as he came.

Jack collapsed back on the bed, sweating, chest heaving.

"Thank you Cariad, that was wonderful." Said Ianto as he swung himself off the bed and entered the bathroom. As Jack recovered from his exertions he heard a tap running and Ianto came back, bathrobe on, and a washcloth in his hand. Jack grabbed the cloth from Ianto's hand as Ianto reached to wipe him down.

"No! I'll do it myself"

Ianto smiled his acceptance. "I'll shower and dress. Hungry?"

Jack's stomach growled in reply and they both laughed.

As Ianto showered Jack lay there, examining his feelings. Something nagged at him. Something was causing this frustration and anger. He seemingly had everything. Wealth, looks, family, a beautiful partner. But there were things that rankled. His musings were interrupted as Ianto entered the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel.

Smiling at Jack, Ianto opened and closed drawers and cupboards. Jack watched lazily as Ianto dressed in his usual neat and graceful way.

"That's a great shirt – red really suits you."

"Do you like it? It's new – you took me to Bergdorf's and let me go mad. I know you like to see me in red."

Another gram of frustration was added to the pot. As the last cufflink was fastened, Ianto grinned at Jack.

"I'll call you when it's ready."

Jack heard Ianto make his way downstairs; soon noises and delicious smells wafted upstairs. He took a short, brisk shower and dressed hurriedly in whatever came to hand.

* * *

Jack entered the kitchen-diner to find the lights turned down low, candles lit, prawn appetisers on the table and Ianto walking towards him with a glass of wine in each hand.

"Ianto, this looks wonderful... thank you" He took the proffered glass.

"I thought you deserved a treat after your trying day."

"A toast... to us!"

"To us!" echoed Ianto as their glasses clinked. "Sit in"

They took their seats, and began eating. Ianto was playful and kept telling Jack all about the funny things the children had done.

Jack laughed at the right places, but just wondered at how much Ianto had changed. He'd noticed that there were few books in the house, but Ianto had been an avid reader. Sure, there were cookbooks, but still... Ianto had also lost his wit, his sarcasm, his spikiness – aspects of his character that Jack loved.

Course after course followed, all the while Ianto chattered on, not noticing Jack's mood darken. At last the meal was over and they began to clear up. Well, Jack attempted to help but Ianto seemed so shocked that he stood aside.

"Ianto?"

"Yes, Cariad"

"What's happened to you?"

"What do you mean? I'm the same as I've always been."

"You're just like all those other women we met today. A good little housewife"

"But you like me like this. Don't you?"

"No, no I don't. Are we undercover? Are you playing a part?"

Ianto stopped and stared at him. "Jack, I told you earlier, we stopped working for Torchwood five years ago."

"The why are you so boring? So weak and accepting? Where's the sarky tea-boy that kept me on my toes?"

Ianto stifled a sob. "Jack, I'm calling the doctor, there must be something wrong with you to say such hurtful things. I thought we were happy!"

"Don't you dare" snarled Jack as he grabbed Ianto's wrist to stop him reaching for the phone.

It felt like Ianto's arm was made of steel. Just on the edge of hearing was the sound of a motor straining; then Ianto stopped reaching and the noise stopped. Jack's eyes widened in surprise and just as quickly narrowed in suspicion.

"Ianto, what does archaic mean?"

"Archaic?"

"Never mind"

"If you don't want a doctor, then I think you've had a little too much to drink. I'll make you some coffee."

Ianto turned and reached up to a cupboard for mugs. Jack looked around the kitchen for a weapon – spying the knife block on the counter; he reached and pulled out a long, sharp blade.

Ianto turned after laying the mugs on the counter. Jack thrust the knife into Ianto three times – jab, jab, jab – and took a step back. He got Ianto twice in the abdomen and once in the chest. He risked a glance at the blade – not a trace of blood.

He glanced up again – wanting to keep the thing in sight – it certainly wasn't Ianto. It was a cruel trick. He watched as the robot staggered a little.

"Oh Jack! My new shirt! How could you do a thing like that? Just when I was going to give you coffee! How could you do a thing like that? I thought we were happy! Just when I was going to... how could you do a thing like that... just when I was going to give you coffee! Oh Jack... I thought we were happy... I thought we were happy... happy... coffee... how could you do a thing like that? Like that? Like that? Like that? Happy... Happy... "

Dangerous looking sparks were leaping across the Stepford-Ianto's body. In a final surge of energy, the Iantobot grabbed Jack in a deadly embrace. Jack could feel the electrical energy slamming into his body.

The momentum of the robot tipped Jack off balance and they both fell to the floor, Jack pinned under the deadweight.

Jack died staring into the cracked face of Ianto.

* * *

The reader sighed in satisfaction and turned the page.

_**AN:** You liked? The inspiration was the 1975 version of The Stepford Wives, not the 2004. Watch it, it's a great movie. I followed the golden rule of evil doppelgangers – I made Ianto have long hair and a beard – though I think GDL looks great with longer hair and beard, personally._


End file.
